


Today and Tomorrow.

by appetency



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appetency/pseuds/appetency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yesterday wasn't a good day.<br/>Today wasn't good, either.<br/>Tomorrow might be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today and Tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> angst-y. triggers may include (heavily implied) mental illness/depression, both in the reader and Bucky.

It was Saturday. It was lonely. Bucky was gone. Your mug was shattered. Coffee was forming an odd shape on the tile floor and your socks were damp and stained. The day was passing by too slowly.  
Then all of a sudden it was Sunday. It was still lonely. Bucky was home. Your coffee stayed where it belonged this time. Your shared apartment was haunted, but neither of you was sure whom by. Bucky was supposed to be dead many times over, but you didn't feel alive.  
"I missed you all week,"  
"I had to do this," he paused before tacking on "doll" as an afterthought, to sweeten bitter words. The two of you were sitting across from each other at your tiny dinner table. You were scraping your fork across your empty plate and he, well, you weren't quite sure what he was doing. Bucky appeared to be fiddling with something sticking out of his bionic arm.  
"Do you want to take a walk with me?"  
"No. But you go," Bucky was trying to improve, at least, which was more than you could say for yourself. You stood and trudged into the entrance hall of the apartment. You opened the closet. Something creaked, and it was either the door or your weary shoulders carrying more than they were meant to. You couldn't tell which. You put on a thick, navy coat and dark black boots. You opened the door, but you didn't step out; you were waiting for something to call you out, for something to give you a reason. Nothing happened, so you shut the door. You placed your boots back side-by-side and hung up your coat.  
"Nevermind. I think it's supposed to rain later, anyway,"  
Bucky nodded and didn't look up. You took your plate and placed it in the dishwasher, exactly like you did yesterday when he was gone. You wandered back through the dining room and went to your bookshelf, taking the first novel you laid eyes on. You sat down on your plain brown couch. You set the book next to you, but you didn't read it, just like yesterday.  
Bucky stood up from his seat, walked forward, and stopped when he was next to you.  
"Are you meeting with Steve again?"  
He shook his head.  
"Let's -- let's do something. The two of us. We can watch a movie, or go out, or something. I don't know, whatever you want."  
Bucky finally sat down beside you; he sat on your left. Now what? Would he like it if you held his hand? You tried weaving your fingers through his hand. He didn't react, but you didn't let go, and you leaned into his right side. You kissed his shoulder before leaning your head onto him.  
"Are you okay? Are you... are you happier?" you asked him. He just tightened his grip on your hand. At some point that night, you brought a blanket for you to share and picked out a DVD. Bucky didn't show it but he was intrigued. It was a small change, but it actually had an impact and you were glad for it.  
You hoped that tomorrow would be better. And eventually, next week would be better until the next month was better and then the next year was better still. You would become better along with it; as is the way nature goes. Then your Bucky would be better and all would be well. But this would take a while, so until then: tomorrow.  
It wasn't meant to be this way: Bucky wasn't meant to be preserved throughout time like a wax figure, nor to be treated like one. Burnt, and contorted, and then reworked to fit a mold. There shouldn't have been collateral damage. You shouldn't have came to him, and he shouldn't have stayed with you. But although none of this was meant to happen the way it did, it was okay. It was better, in fact.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: i know i said that i’d try to keep the reader character as relatable as possible and that mental illness is something specific to certain people, but this is something that i feel like i have to write for myself. i’ll probably write a part two, and it should be up very soon, so stay tuned!


End file.
